I want to feel 8 feet tall

Although my sister did not inspire this particular piece, I often find that she leaves me in awe when I have the privilege of seeing her express herself freely. This is for my sister, the first person who taught me to have an opinion and be conscious. Happy Birthday Ate.

I want to feel 8 feet tall

So with each struggling breath of confidence I rise above pavements, trees, roof tops and infinite mountains, until all I can see is earth’s blue and silver blankets hugging its shores. My giant shadow looms over Wilshire street, extends across busy freeways and covers the ocean.

I want to see above the clouds, above experiences of broken confidence, above reflections of past failures, above storms of invisibility, away from silencing screams of thunder. But sometimes all I see is cumulus carved with past self-realizations of people who have already been here. And it makes me feel helplessly behind, helplessly alone and compelled to climb higher.

I want to embrace the sun’s outstretched arms, its golden rays graze every exposed surface of my vulnerable skin. Self-doubt abandoned, I meet with the sun and glow as beautifully as it does when it sets. And shine the same brilliant gold when I find you there.

I want to be friends with the stars. They call you their cousin. And when I find freedom to meet you, the meteors, astroids, blazing nebulas, moons and even jupiter cease to move.

I want to feel 8 feet tall, not to be measured in inches, feet or height’s ability to overshadow insecurities but in realizations that heightened contentment means embracing those imperfections that make me perfectly human.

Because until I grow and understand each shortcoming as an opportunity to be perfectly me, we won’t see eye to eye and I’ll never feel 8 feet tall at all.